Face of a Monster
by midnightdreams13
Summary: The time is in the early 1800's. Jasper is still living with Maria's coven, but something isn't right. What was going through Jasper's head through this ordeal, and what was the final push to make him leave? Read and Review!


Disclaimer: I claim nothing. Twilight is strictly Stephenie Meyers's.

I looked around the room once more in apprehension. How could I have ended up in such a place? Every inch of the small cabin seemed to be deteriorating in one way or another. There were holes in virtually every corner, mice and other various animal dropping scattered along the dirt floor, and broken glass was scattered amongst the other debris. I wasn't one to complain, however. I was used to bad conditions by now; there was a limited amount of hiding places during the daylight that were considered hospitable. I cringed internally at the thought of hiding in another filthy crawl space. The grime I hardly noticed because of the unruly conditions of my battalion through the end of my command. What bothered me most were the compact spaces. I remember little from my human life, but I suspect that since I had always lived in wide open spaces, being enclosed for so long was unnatural even for a creature like me. It was also exceedingly difficult to try and fit my six foot self into a tiny space.

As I was sitting stiffly on the edge of the dusty old barrel inside the condemned old shack, I started contemplating, or philosophizing as my younger sister used to call it. I wondered, yet again, why I was chosen for the destiny I had become set upon. Was there really a purpose, or did I simply stumble down the wrong alley at the wrong time? I always felt that there had to be a reason why I had become a predator, why I took the lives of innocents. I couldn't go through "living" the life that was set upon me without thinking that; I would be lost in the monster I had become. I knew what our coven did was wrong, I also knew what I was. That is what made me, and the others, a true monster: I was aware. I knew that every time I killed I was killing for me, my own lust, and my own satisfaction. There was no controlling my lust; there was no other way out for me. I knew I had two options: drink or die. That is what she told me all those years ago when I asked her that question that still rang in my ears. Why?

With my superhuman senses, I could hear their approach before they were even close. It was easier to comprehend out in the desert were everything was quiet. I liked the quiet; it gave me time to think.

"Jasper?" a smooth female voice called happily outside the door in a type of greeting. I recognized the insane type of cheer in her voice and immediately blocked her emotions from my senses. I learned after a while that it was better for Maria to have her happiness of the kill to herself. There was something about it that was far too cynical for my taste.

"Maria," I acknowledged quietly as her dark-haired head came into view with the light skinned Apache Indian following close at her heals.

She continued over to the small table that had been left behind by whoever abandoned the shack and sat down a large bag along with three smaller purses. "I brought you something," she almost sang in her accented voice. She turned to face me, her long, dark curls bouncing around playfully.

I gave her a slightly agitated look then waited for her to show me whatever she stole from the town the two of them had just hunted in. Thievery had never sat well with me; I never appreciated taking something I didn't earn. I remembered Maria's reaction when I told her of my speculation. _"But you_ do _earn it," _she had said with an eerie gleam in her eye. I knew what she meant, killing wasn't just a way of survival to her…it was a game.

After a moment of digging in the suitcase, she returned with a dark green book that contained gold writing on the cover along with a small sketch of a bird. She smiled at me genuinely and tossed the book in my direction. I snatched it in mid air with a wisp of my hand and brought the volume's title before my eyes. It read, _The Origin of Species. _I frowned at the book for a moment then looked up at the young Spanish woman before me, her eyes a light crimson, fresh from a kill. "What is this?" I asked skeptically. She had brought me many books before that I found to be utterly ridiculous; therefore I doubted her judgment in acceptable reading material.

She returned my gaze with wide eyes. I could feel her amusement pulsating around her like a heartbeat. "I declare, Jasper," she said laughing. "You don't pay any attention to the news nowadays do you?" she asked. She giggled one last time before continuing. "Apparently this book is causing a major uproar among the humans," she said thoughtfully, taking a seat on the edge of the table and crossing her long legs. "Something about religious groups denouncing it," she continued, waving her hand as if it was nothing. "Must mean it's worth reading then, aye?" she laughed, raising her thin black eye brows.

I gave the book a quick going over before nodding. Now that I thought of it, I had seen something in a newspaper a few weeks previously when we traveled through a small town in Arizona. Apparently this Darwin's theory was supposed to infer that humans came from apes. Of course religious groups would find this threatening: anything that wasn't in their book was automatically wrong, or blasphemous. I shook my head and sat the book down on the barrel after standing up. "Is this what took you so long?" I asked motioning to the stolen goods.

Maria's emotion's spiked at my words, which would usually compel me to send a wave of calm her way. However, I didn't care anymore. Let her get mad, I wasn't her slave or her silent dependant. She narrowed her eyes at me then shot a quick glance over at Mapache. I could feel the tiniest bit of panic in her emotions, which unnerved me somewhat. What could they have done this time? "A better question," I said at her lack of response, "would be: where is Antonio?"

I turned to the Native American in the corner. "Mapache," I said slowly so he could comprehend, "was there trouble?" I would have rather asked him in his native tongue that I had learned over a short period of time; however, Maria refused to attempt to learn his "savage" language and forbade us to speak it in her presence. He had been slow to learn English, but with much instruction, he was now able to comprehend almost anyone, even though he still had some obstacles. Mapache wasn't even his real name. Rather, a nickname given to him by Maria because of his dark hair and oddly colored skin. He was once a dark skinned human, but when he became one of us, his skin lightened awkwardly, giving him a grayish tone.

He turned his gaze toward me then nodded slowly. "There were drunken humans who became…violent," he said in his deep voice.

I gave Maria a dark look. "What?" she spat defensively, jumping swiftly from the table.

"You should have been more cautious," I scorned, ignoring the violent emotions erupting from her. This time I did use my talent to calm her. The last thing I needed was a fight, not that I would have minded. I could have bested Maria if need be, but Mapache was likely to attack if he felt she was in danger.

"Why do you always assume it is my fault?" she said in a more calm voice.

Glad that she didn't resist my power, I continued more confidently. "Because it usually is," I acknowledged, to which she merely scowled, knowing it was the truth. "What happened then?" I finally asked after a long silence.

Maria looked away dejectedly, so I turned to Mapache, giving him a questioning look. He looked at me for a moment with his emotionless face. I felt doubt and uncertainness flowing off of him without hesitation. Something happened that they didn't want to tell me about, but what? "We were…" he stopped for a moment, because he was either thinking of the correct word or was truly apprehensive to relay the night's events, "reveled."

The word seemed to circle about the room and reverberate off the walls. "Reveled," I repeated quietly. I looked down at the dirt-ridden floor. What could have happened? Did some unsuspecting human stumble upon the kill and somehow manage to tell the rest of the town? Such a thing would not have happened if I accompanied them; the human would have been asleep on the ground before another thought went through their head. But I didn't go, I was too…too what? What was wrong with me? I couldn't enjoy any aspect of our life anymore. I had no purpose, no reason for going on besides my unbreakable belief in destiny.

"It was an accident," Maria said, breaking my train of thought. "Two of the locals were drunk and exchanging words in the street. Antonio said there would most likely be a gun fight and we should stay and watch, so I agreed and naturally Mapache stayed as well," she said slowly, glancing to the Indian in the corner. "When they finally started shooting at one another, a stray bullet hit an onlooker in the neck," she stopped to take an unnecessary shuddering breath. I waited in an unbearable silence for her to continue. "It wasn't his fault," she erupted out of nowhere, "there was just so much blood, we weren't expecting there to be…"

I rushed over to her and took her shoulders in my hands then shook her roughly. "What?" I demanded at her panic-stricken face. If she was able to cry, she would have been sobbing uncontrollably.

"Mapache lost control," she stuttered. "He tried to drink from the human." I let her go quickly, turning to my comrade in the corner.

The Apache had the same emotionless expression he always had, but I knew better. He was pulsating with guilt, fear, and shame. "_I am sorry,_" he said quietly in his native language.

I nodded at him. "_I understand,_" I said reassuringly. But did I really understand? I had never felt such hunger that I almost revealed our secret to public view, especially after feeding. I hoped that I would never face such a need, and if I ever did, I hoped I had a good reason to stop.

"_Her blood called to me_." This time confusion and fear overwhelmed him and I understood why. But at the time, I thought he was just relating his deep need, and that no matter which human had been hit, he still would have wanted to feed. I never knew how wrong I would be, and how that phrase would haunt me for over a century.

"Will you two stop it?!" Maria almost shrieked, her red eyes blazing.

"My apologies," I said quickly, turning back to her. "Where, then, is your brother?" I inquired.

She slumped back down onto the old table. "Cleaning up the mess of course," she sighed. Her emotions were the same as Mapache's, but more anxious and stressful. I sent a bigger wave of tranquility through the cabin, though it wouldn't fix the problem at hand. We would have to get moving, and soon. If we left fast enough, we would become another ghost tale locals told to scare travelers or, most likely, another untruthful tale to blacken the Native American's reputation.

"How many witnesses?" I asked, trying to calculate the distance between us and the next town.

She sighed again. "Only a few, no one even noticed the poor girl was hit. They were too enthused about the victor of the shootout."

I sighed internally. At least there was some good news. After that, I listened carefully the next half hour for signs of Antonio's arrival. I needed more information, and Maria, as usual, was no help. I unconsciously started to flip through the book she had given me without actually looking at it. Having a text in my hand was the most natural thing in the world to me. I vaguely remembered my home back in Texas when I was human. It was a two story, white washed ranch house with a front porch that wrapped all the way around to the back. When I left for the war, I left behind all of my possessions. I never owned anything of tremendous wealth, but there were a few things I considered treasures, and those were my books. The walls of my bedroom were lined with dozens of books I had accommodated throughout the years. I always promised myself that, if I ever had a house of my own, I would have my own study filled with every kind of book.

The sound of Mapache's voice broke my musing. "He approaches," he said, from the far wall. He had been leaning against it silently with his arms crossed the whole time. Even when Maria tried to console him, he merely stared at the ground in shame.

I lifted my head and looked out the broken window. Sure enough, I saw Antonio's pale form speeding toward us. I got up and swiftly went outside to meet him part of the way. His mood was surprisingly cheerful. I was expecting at least a little remorse or, at least, worry. "Antonio," I greeted when we met, almost a quarter of a mile away from the cabin.

He nodded and smiled widely. Nothing about him was out of the ordinary. "Jasper," he nodded in return, flashing his brilliant smile again.

I glanced back at the shack. "They tell me there was some difficulty in town," I said quickly. There was something that just wasn't right about what was happening; I could feel it.

"Yes," he affirmed, running his hand through his shiny black hair. "Accidents happen. You understand," he shrugged, smiling convincingly.

I frowned and stared back at the young Spanish-born being in front of me. He looked very much like his sister with dark curly hair, strong facial features, and a glint around the eyes that gave the appearance of trickery. "Maria seems shaken," I mused, trying to get more information out of him.

He looked past me into the cabin. "My little sister is often overly dramatic," he chuckled in his perfectly accented voice. "Mapache simply didn't have enough nourishment after our hunt and was drawn to the girl's blood." He said the last part as if it was the simplest thing in the world. I could tell that something was wrong with his statement. Antonio was the best liar I had ever met, but over the years I had become very skilled with the usage of my gift. Now when he lied I could feel the smallest spike in emotion…the very smallest. I had to be paying very close attention to sense it.

"I see," I responded in a monotone. I wasn't sure what he was lying about, but I knew he was lying.

He patted me on the shoulder encouragingly. "Stop worrying, my friend," he laughed, going past me, "it was only a human. What are they to us?" After that, he sprinted into the crumbling shack while I stood in the dusty desert alone. Only one thought went through my mind: What am I doing with these monsters?


End file.
